


Come Hell or High Water

by volley



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:40:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25826062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volley/pseuds/volley
Summary: Was he in a submarine? - In a misson gone awry, Malcolm relives a tragedy of the past. A Drown Malcolm story
Comments: 22
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Grateful thanks to Gabi2305 and RoaringMice for beta reading this story

**Chapter One**

“Sir, some compartments are flooding! There are several wounded!” the young officer said as he burst into the engine room. Dirty and dishevelled, a lock of short dark hair matted to his forehead over eyes in which despair was clear, he had shouted the words over the noise of the submarine’s engine.

“We must evacuate!” he urged.

A man in his forties turned to him. He was not tall but well-proportioned and had deep grey-blue eyes. His face was a hard mask. “Get the hell out of here and get the crew to the escape pods! I’ll keep the engine running,” he barked back in a voice in which one could detect a note of repressed terror, before returning to his task.

“But Sir…” The young officer hesitated. He looked torn. “I’m not prepared to---"

“Dammit, Robert, I’m the Chief Engineer,” the other man cut him off, shouting over his shoulder, “it’s my duty and my responsibility! And that was an order, Lieutenant!” There was no anger in the words, just the vehemence of an uncompromising conscience put to the test.

The young officer shook his head lightly, still wavering, lips tight against the emotions that warred in his breast.

Turning once again, the Chief Engineer took a couple of steps and grabbed his Lieutenant firmly by the shoulders. “Get out of this sinking grave, while you still can,” he said in a choked voice. “Return to your wife, she’s too young to be left a widow.”

Robert swallowed hard. “It was an honour to serve with you, Commander...”

A shrill sound echoed through the…

Malcolm woke with a start, prey to a dark dread. It took him a moment to know where he was, for dream and reality were mingling in his confused mind. It wasn’t the sound of his alarm clock, which had gone off, but the view of the stars streaking past, out of his porthole, that finally got him moving. He turned and slammed a hand in the dark to silence the piercing noise. He really ought to remember to change the sound to something softer. Then, heaving a deep breath to slow his racing heart, he sank back into his mattress, bringing one arm up to cover his eyes. A few more minutes…

Feeling far from rested, he frowned against the turmoil that stirred deep inside him. He didn’t think he’d ever dreamt of his great-uncle and the HMS Clement’s accident before. Surely, he would remember if he had. The dream had been so vivid… As vivid as nightmares can be. Then he realized… It was three months to the day since he had been pinned to the hull by that Romulan mine and, in a moment of folly, he had revealed his secret to the Captain. He had also talked to him of his great-uncle and of how he had heroically faced his deepest fear. His subconscious must have dragged the memory up.

He had never met his great-uncle, the accident had happened when he, Malcolm, was quite small; but he had seen pictures of his uncle in the family album and had heard all about the accident from his father. When he was in his teens, his great-uncle’s former Lieutenant Robert Peterson had visited once – and that had coincided with the time his own aqua-phobia had started. The visit had triggered something in him, a strange fascination, and then he had made it a point to read all that he could on the Clement.

Malcolm pushed all thoughts of the submarine out of his mind and sat up. Time to think of another ship, the one that had been his home for the past year and a half. Ordering his lights on, he slipped out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom. Half an hour later, he was pulling up the zip of his uniform, when his bell rang.

“Mornin’,” Trip said on the other side of the door once Malcolm had opened it.

“Is there a problem?” Malcolm asked with a frown.

Trip rolled his eyes. “Typical Lieutenant Reed,” he teased. “No. Everything’s peachy. I’ve just been talkin’ to the Capt’n and I wanted to be the one to break the good news: you might have some fun today, Loo-tenant.”

He made his eyebrows dance and broke into one of his sweetest smiles, and Malcolm, despite Trip’s cheer, felt uneasy. Brushing it off as remnants of his dream, he followed Trip into the corridor.

\------

“Depending on the size of the cave, two or three charges should do the job, Captain.”

In the situation room, Archer studied his Armoury Officer. There was nothing that could perk Reed up more than the prospect of a nice explosion. The larger the better. The man stood straight as usual, but from what Archer could read in Reed’s usually rather inscrutable eyes his day had brightened up considerably.

“Hold your horses, Lieutenant,” Archer said, not wanting him to get his hopes too high just yet, “we still need the okay from our Science Officer.” He turned to T’Pol, who was standing with her arms loosely folded in front of her, and he tilted his head in a silent question.

“I have carried out a geological survey of the region,” she informed the group, “and it appears stable. But--”

“Well then, Capt’n, are you goin’ to let Malcolm play with his toys?” Trip cut her off.

Archer cleared his throat. “Easy, Trip,” he told his long-time friend. He turned back to T’Pol.

“As I was saying,” she continued, unfazed, “a geological survey is only the beginning. If you wish to go ahead with the mission in a safe way, I suggest you let me study the data I have collected.”

“Yeah, we know all about your Vulcan protocols,” Trip said, his tone showing his frustration. “One week orbiting the planet twiddlin’ our thumbs while you peer into your viewer.”

“Trip!” Archer warned.

He didn’t need to look at Reed to know the expression that Trip’s words would have painted on it. Malcolm was a military man to the core, and while he may now be slightly more comfortable than at the beginning of their mission, he still felt that the chain of command required, at least during official meetings, a certain language and code of behaviour. Reed had made that clear to him when they’d been out on Enterprise’s hull defusing that Romulan mine. Catching the silent communication that was now passing between his Armoury Officer and Chief Engineer, Archer tightened his lips to restrain a smile. He couldn’t imagine a more mismatched pair, but against all odds the two had struck up a nice friendship.

T'Pol, on the other hand, remained largely unreadable to him. Archer studied her impassive face. “Are we sure this planet doesn’t belong to anybody?” he asked her. That only won him a slightly condescending glance.

“Captain, if I knew that there was a claim to it, I would have told you,” T’Pol gracefully replied. “The place is uninhabited and has only some sparse vegetation. However, there might be microorganisms in the rock that Mr. Reed proposes to… _blow up_. I would need to examine a sample of it.”

“Capt’n, we don’t have the time to be kind to microorganisms, right now,” Trip complained, wincing as if T’Pol’s logical approach were already giving him a headache. “I need that dilithium and I need it now, if ya want to keep zippin’ through the universe. It’s as simple as that.”

“I would only need to blow up a small portion of rock, to get a few crystals, Sir,” Reed put in, eyes steadily on the situation table.

“We don’t have that many chances to find the ore this easily,” Trip added.

“I get it!” Archer took a deep calming breath. He scanned his officers. Malcolm was waiting with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes still averted; Trip reminded him of Porthos when he wanted a piece of cheese; T’Pol was like a flat lake, not a ripple of emotion gave her away.

“Well,” he finally said, “I suppose we have no choice. He turned to Malcolm and the man’s eyes darted to him, bright with anticipation. “Mr. Reed, get your gear together. Bring a man with you.”

Malcolm gave a sharp nod. “Aye, Captain.”

Archer looked at Trip. “Prep a shuttlepod.”

“Aye, Capt’n. Sir...” Trip bit his lower lip. “May I join the team?” He jerked his head sideways. “Haven’t breathed fresh air in months.”

“This away mission is about collecting dilithium crystals, Commander,” T’Pol told him in a tone that Archer swore was slightly disapproving, “not about _breathing fresh air_.”

Trip tilted his head. “Capt’n?”

“I guess it can be a bit of both,” Archer said to his Vulcan SIC.

“Captain, the last time you said that,” T’Pol reminded him, “Mr. Tucker ended up pointing a phase pistol at me under the effects of a hallucinogenic pollen, and we almost lost a crewman, endangering four more.”

Archer felt a bout of irritation. He refused to think that the _entire_ universe was _always_ pitched against them. “I trust this time things will go better,” he said with a tight smile. “And I fear that if I don’t grant Trip his wish, he’s not going to be fun to be around. Tell you what, why don’t you go too, Subcommander? A bit of R&R would be good for you.”

T’Pol raised unperturbed eyes on him. “Vulcans don’t need any _R &R_. We have meditation.”

_Right_. Archer heaved an inner sigh. “Dismissed,” he ordered; and watched Malcolm sprint away, a spring in his step.


	2. Chapter 2

“Did you pack an extra detonator, Crewman?”

“Yessir!”

“Enough explosive?”

“Yessir!”

On the pilot’s seat in Shuttlepod One, as he went through the pre-flight checks, Trip glanced over his shoulder. Malcolm was coming down the ladder to the pod followed by young Crewman Strutt, of the Armoury, who was carrying a case. The lanky blond man was – as far as Trip could tell – on his first away mission and sounded a mix of excitement and unease. He wondered why Malcolm had chosen such a young member of his department. Probably he thought he could do the job himself without any help, but since the Captain had ordered him to take a man with him, he wanted to give one of his youngest subordinates a chance to get some experience.

“Welcome on board,” Trip cast towards them in a cheerful mood, trying to ease the Crewman’s tension. “All set and ready for a nice outing?”

“I believe we have everything we need, Commander, provided Crewman Strutt here has been thorough,” Malcolm replied with a scrutinizing look at his man. Then he went to take the navigation seat, while Strutt, with a _Sir!_ and a sharp nod went to sit on the back bench.

“Take it easy on the poor guy,” Trip said softly as Malcolm passed by him, “he’s so young he hardly needs to shave.”

Malcolm cast him a glance. “Nonsense. He’s an armoury man, he’s used to it,” he said, with a wry smile. “And he shouldn’t be made to feel too comfortable on an away mission.”

Trip rolled his eyes and turned to his console. He opened a channel to the bridge. “Enterprise, we’re good to go.”

“Very well,” Archer’s voice came back. “Keep in touch.”

“Will do,” Trip chimed, powering the engine.

A moment later they were gliding out of Enterprise’s belly.

\------

There had been silence in the pod for the past few minutes. Trip unobtrusively checked on Malcolm. Passing the thermo barrier usually created enough turbulence to wake up his motion sickness, but he seemed to be okay, if a little paler than before.

Finally, they pierced the clouds and the planet appeared beneath them.

“There’s a clearing due south, some 20 miles up ahead,” Malcolm informed him. “It’s the best place for landing.”

Trip steered the pod and, once it was level, allowed himself to get distracted for a moment by the view. The planet wasn’t lush by any stretch of the imagination, more like a sort of rocky desert, although some tufts of low vegetation did form patches of green here and there.

“Temperature is balmy,” Trip said cheerfully. “Thank God for that. Can’t stand the heat.”

“Or the humidity,” Malcolm echoed behind him.

Trip pointed to some craggy mountains in the distance on the left. “Is that what we’re looking for?”

“Yes, Commander, I believe so.”

Malcolm’s voice had immediately turned professional. Trip turned to look at him. The man was studying the map of the place. He did like the focussed commitment his friend put into every job. He had appreciated it ever since that time when the engineering and Armoury teams together had built the phase cannons and repelled those silent aliens who seemed bent on blowing them out of the sky. Yes, the man always put 110% in what he did.

“Strutt, are you still alive down there?” Trip called over his shoulder. The man had not made a sound.

“Yessir!”

Trip swivelled in his chair and gave the young guy one of his reassuring smiles. “Come on up and have a look at the view. It’s not every day that you get to leave the ship.”

Strutt stood up and came to lean on the back of his chair. “Not exactly the garden of Eden but very impressive,” he said.

“Well, I for one wouldn’t want there to be any _snakes_ ,” Malcolm quipped, discarding for once the Commanding Officer garb.

Trip chuckled. “Don’t’ya worry, Subcommander T’Pol would’ve warned us if there was any wildlife. The place is barren, except for some sparse vegetation.”

The landing was not exactly soft, due to the rough, rocky terrain. Once on the ground, the pod remained slightly tilted on one side.

“Sorry,” Trip said, “Couldn’t be helped.” He heaved a sigh. “The Capt’n’ll be mad. I guess she’ll be due for a fresh coat of paint once we get back,” he muttered to himself as he powered off the engine.

He saw Malcolm switch off his console and stand up, a hand to the bulkhead to keep upright, the other to his phase pistol as if to assure himself that it was still there – God only knew what he intended to do with it on an uninhabited planet. Malcolm checked on his subordinate. Strutt had got the case they had carried with them and stood ready, waiting for orders.

“Ready?” Malcolm asked, preparing to open the Shuttlepod’s hatch.

“Yup,” Trip replied. “After you, Lieutenant.”

The pod’s hatch swivelled up and a waft of noxious smelling air assaulted their nostrils.

“What the hell…” Trip said, bending an arm over his face to cover his nose.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to breathe some fresh air, Commander?” Malcolm choked out. He stepped out of the Shuttlepod and looked warily around, coughing and wincing against the stench. Strutt climbed out as well, his face stoically showing nothing.

Trip, who had followed suit, retrieved his communicator and flipped it open. “Tucker to Enterprise.”

“Go ahead Trip,” Archer’s voice came back.

“We’ve landed, Sir. Just someone forgot to mention that the air here is as foul as hell,” he complained.

There were some beats of conversation Trip did not catch; then Archer’s voice returned.

“T’Pol tells me it’s nothing you should worry about. Closer to the caves it will get better.”

“We’ll be on our way, then, before we choke to death. Tucker out.” Trip closed the Shuttlepod’s hatch. “Let’s go,” he urged, “the sooner we get out of these noxious fumes, the better.”

\------

The caves they were headed for were not very distant, but the terrain consisted of some rather spiky rocks, so progress was slow.

“Watch your step,” Trip said, his voice muffled by the arm he still kept in front of his nose and mouth, “wouldn’t want to begin our mission by having Phlox tending to someone’s backside.”

Malcolm shook his head as if to chase away a mental image. “Scary.”

Trip chuckled. He noticed that Strutt had relaxed a little.

“The dilithium deposits shouldn’t be too deep inside the caves,” Malcolm said, breaking the silence that had stretched for a few minutes, turning to his subordinate, “but we’ll still need to find a suitable place to mine them.”

Strutt shifted the case to his other hand. “Aye, Sir. By the way,” he added, “thank you for choosing me for this mission. It’s great to be standing on my first alien planet.”

Malcolm made a disgusted sound. “You’re too kind, Crewman. It’s almost a punishment if the air doesn’t get more breathable,” he choked out. “If truth be told, right now I’d much rather be realigning the targeting sensors in the Armoury.”

Trip smiled. “Enjoy it, Strutt,” he butted in, “you’re getting a rare glimpse of Lieutenant Reed’s humorous side.” He turned to Malcolm. “Don’t forget, Lieutenant, I need crystals with a purity of at least 80%,” he reminded him.

“Yes, Commander, we’ll try to accommodate you.”

When they finally got to the caves, the planet’s first sun was setting and the second rising. At least, as T’Pol had predicted, the strong smell had disappeared. The mountains were run through by tunnels and caves. There was no indication that they had been engineered, although the question begged asking, for some of the openings were quite regular in shape, as if they were work of an intelligent mind.

Trip raised his scanner, Malcolm followed suit, and they studied their readings.

“There’s plenty of ore, Commander,” Malcolm said, lowering his device. “Let’s find a convenient cave, one of the right size for our little explosion.”

“Ah – for that I defer entirely to your judgement.” Trip flicked his communicator open. “Tucker to Archer. We’re entering the caves.”

“Understood,” the Captain’s voice replied.

Trip swept a hand towards the mouth of one of the larger tunnels. “Shall we?”

They all switched on their flashlights; Malcolm searched, with his, the tunnel’s entrance and went in. The space was tall enough to stand with room to spare, but rather narrow. They had to walk in a single file, and Malcolm led the party penetrating deeper into the mountain, the beam of his flashlight dancing on the walls as he progressed. Some ten minutes later the tunnel widened a little and forked. Malcolm stopped. He studied his scanner, while Trip and Strutt looked around.

“I’m reading large amounts of dilithium on both sides,” Malcolm said.

Trip turned to him. “Good,” he said, making as if to take right.

“Lieutenant,” Strutt said, stopping Trip in his tracks, “how about this chamber?” The beam of his flashlight illuminated an enclosure that opened a few metres down the left fork. “If the amount of dilithium is acceptable, it looks large enough.”

Trip retraced his steps and pointed his own flashlight to the left. The cave that appeared was oblong in shape, a good three meters tall and four deep. As for its length, the flashlights barely reached its end.

“Yes, it seems large enough,” Malcolm agreed. He entered the cave, followed by the others, and raised his scanner to the rockface. “You’ll soon have your crystals, Commander,” he said after a moment, with a slightly wicked smile. “We need look no further.”

“Great!” Trip kept his light on Malcolm, commanding his attention. He had no intention of sitting on his hands while the two Armoury men got the job done. “While you set up your playground, I’ll do a bit of explorin’, if you don’t mind,” he said. He saw a cloud of discontent veil Malcolm’s excitement and had they been alone he had no doubt that his friend would have voiced it, but the man was too disciplined to tell a superior officer what to do or not to do in front of a subordinate. Wanting to reassure him, he added, “Don’t worry, Lieutenant: I’ll stay out of trouble.” And flicking a salute, he retraced his steps and went down the right tunnel.

\------

“Set up a couple of portable lights, Crewman” Malcolm ordered. “We’ll need some proper light to do the job.”

“Yessir!”

Malcolm cast Strutt an unobtrusive glance. The young man looked positively enthused. Perhaps they ought to bring some of the crew on away missions more often, he mused. Good for morale. After all, the chores on Enterprise got to be rather repetitive, especially for the lower ranks.

Focussing back on the task at hand, he dropped on his haunches and opened the case they had brought, inspecting its contents. A sudden burst of light made him lift his gaze. Strutt had done what ordered and now the cave appeared in detail.

“Larger than I had expected,” Malcolm said, swivelling on the ball of his feet to look all around it.

Strutt walked to the centre of it. “What do you think, Sir? Three charges, there, there and there?” he asked, pointing to some spots on the far wall.

Malcolm got up and passed a hand through his hair. “Two should be enough,” he thought out loud. He narrowed his eyes. This was Strutt’s first away mission and he did not want to belittle him. After all, the chamber _was_ large. “But three will undoubtedly make a nice explosion,” he concluded with a smile.

Malcolm crossed his arms on his chest and turned to his subordinate. “Right, Crewman,” he said, “get to work.”

“I, Sir?” Strutt came back, eyes wide open.

Ordinarily Malcolm would have done the job himself, but he thought he owed it to the young man. “I haven’t brought you down here just to carry a case,” he said. “Let me see what you can do.”

Strutt blinked. “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir!”

“Right, then.”

A few minutes later Strutt had stuck three charges on the spots he had indicated. Malcolm inspected the job. Given the amount of explosive, the debris would fall not very far from the wall. Piece of cake, as Trip would say.

\------

T’Pol straightened and pushed her special viewer back into its recess. Then swivelled in her chair and got up, heading for the ready room.

“Subcommander,” Archer said cheerfully after she had entered. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Captain, I have analysed the caves more closely and found that they hide large reservoirs of spring water,” she informed him right away.

“Is that a problem?” Archer asked with a frown.

“It could be, should the explosion cause a sudden flooding.”

“Didn’t you say you made a geological survey?” Archer testily enquired.

“Yes, I did,” T’Pol replied. She met his eye, “I also suggested that I be given more time to study the planet.” Raising a brow, she added, with that sometimes-oh-so-irritating Vulcan poise, “You felt it was not necessary.”

Archer ignored her jab and reached for the comm link. “We’d better warn Trip and Malcolm,” he said in a voice turned suddenly tense.

“Archer to Tucker.”

“Capt’n,” Trip’s cheerful voice came back, “you wouldn’t believe what I’ve found in these caves! There are lakes big enough to play a water polo match. What am I saying, _two_ water polo matches!”

“Trip, has Malcolm set up his charges yet?”

“I suppose so. Water’s too cold for swimming, though.”

“Trip, listen to me.”

Archer’s voice had commanded attention, for Commander Tucker took a moment to come back and when he did, he sounded wary.

“Capt’n? Is there a problem?”

“T’Pol has found that some of the caves’ walls hide large pockets of spring water. You’ve got to abort the mission, at least until we have more data.”

“Damn!”

The Commander now sounded worried. T’Pol repressed the knot of anxiety that was forming under her sternum.

“I’m not with Malcolm, Sir. You’d better---”

The sound of an explosion, which could be heard even through the comm link, cut the Commander off.

Archer’s face turned dark. He pressed a button. “Archer to Reed.”

There was no reply.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Water?... He vaguely remembered his feet suddenly being swept from under him by a wave of water. He’d been thrown against a wall. He was sore all over.

He blinked a few times. His head was empty. He did not know anything, least of all where he was. He closed his eyes against the sound of running water, for he did know one thing: he hated the stuff. The notion that it was around him placed a heavy weight in his gut. He was sitting in it, drenched to the bone. He shook his head to clear it and winced against sudden pain and dizziness.

_We hit a mine! The sub is sinking! Abandon ship!_

“Malcolm!”

_We must evacuate!_

“Malcolm! Strutt! Are you okay?”

He strived to focus. There were lights floating in the water. He turned. A man in blue uniform was lying slumped against the rock wall beside him, blood gushing from a deep wound to his head. He reached to put two fingers on his jugular vein and felt a beat. He touched the back of his own head, and his hand came away wet with blood too. Brilliant.

“MALCOLM!”

“Who’s calling?” he choked out.

“It’s Trip. Are you okay?”

His mind was in fog. Was his name Malcolm? This Trip bloke seemed to think so.

“Are you and Strutt okay?” the voice asked tautly.

He surmised Strutt must be the man lying next to him. “Strutt is out cold, he has a bad wound to his head. I’m… more or less okay.”

“ _More or less okay_? Comin’ from you that’s not very reassuring…”

He wondered what that meant. With an effort, he sat up straighter and tried to figure out in what kind of messy situation he had landed himself. A couple of lights were floating in the water that was now sloshing all around him, and the light they cast as they danced on the unstable substance made him nauseous. Or perhaps it was the bump to his head that did that. Most likely both.

“Trip? Where are you?” he called. Right now, it would be nice if this Trip chap could lend a hand.

“The explosion freed a large pocket of water. The sudden release of pressure must’ve caused more damage than the explosion would’ve done. There’s a wall of debris blocking your exit. I’m just outside it,” Trip replied.

An explosion? What was the man talking about? Bloody hell, yes, they had hit a mine! He felt his chest constrict with anxiety. The water was slowly mounting. And it was freezing cold. Not exactly the Caribbean Sea. His heart began to race. He scrunched his eyes shut.

_Get to the escape pods!_

“I’ve tried to move some of the rocks, but they’re wedged in tight,” Trip’s taut voice said.

Rocks? The beam of a flashlight was filtering through somewhere to his right, trying find him. He put a hand to the wall and slowly picked himself up. The water was up to his knees. Fighting his dizziness, he turned to check on Strutt. His shoulders and head were still out of the water, but he wondered for how long.

“Malcolm, talk to me, for heaven’s sake!”

The tension in Trip’s voice was unmistakable. “Yes. I’m still here,” he choked out.

He let go of the comforting anchor of the wall and took a few wavering steps. Wading through the sloshing water, he reached a portable light and grabbed it. He raised it, inspecting the situation.

“There is a steady flow of water coming in from a large gash,” he said past the knot in his throat. He really did not like what he was seeing. A bout of dizziness made him almost lose his balance.

_Compartments are flooding! There are several wounded!_

“Yeah,” Trip’s voice said, “some of it’s filtering out through the debris that is blocking the chamber’s opening, but I don’t think it’s escaping fast enough to prevent the water level from rising on your end.”

Stumbling, he headed for Trip’s position, guided by the man’s voice and flashlight. He inspected what blocked his escape. There were a few small gaps, through which an arm could pass but not much more. He leaned on the debris with outstretched arms and let his head fall forward, weak from injury and mounting despair. He forcibly quelled the panic that threatened to seize him, making his breathing come in short gasps.

“Capt’n, we need some help down here,” he heard Trip say.

He frowned. “Is the Captain alive?” he asked weakly. But that Trip bloke must not have heard him.

_The Captain is dead! The Commander is keeping the engine running to allow the crew to get to the escape pods!_

The Clement? Was he in a submarine? Surely there were no rocks in a submarine… He must try to focus. Fighting against the temptation to give in to his weakness and let himself crumple to the ground, he opened his eyes and peered through the divide. He raised a hand against the light that suddenly flashed in his face, and this was immediately lowered.

“Good to see ya,” Trip said.

The light now illuminated a pair of blue, worried eyes under a crop of blond hair. So, this was Trip.

“Nice to make your acquaintance,” he blurted out, but Trip obviously thought he was cracking a joke, for he gave him a wry smile. “We must get out while we still can,” he urged him.

“We’re workin’ on it, Loo-tenant. Hold on.”

Was he a Lieutenant? He looked at himself and saw that he was wearing a blue uniform like the one Strutt was wearing, and this Trip bloke too.

An arm reached through a gap in the debris and a hand grabbed his shoulder tight. “I’ll be back soon,” Trip said, and then he moved a few metres away and flicked open a device.

\------

“Even if the transporter wasn’t offline, Trip, we couldn’t use it, they’re too far inside the cave.”

One hand against the rock face, Trip shook his head. “There must be a way to get them out of there without using more explosive,” he said to his Captain. “I’m afraid the first explosion may have destabilized things, wouldn’t want to risk another; but I’m no armoury officer.”

“I’ll send down Malcolm’s SIC for that. T’Pol is analysing the area closely to make sure there are no other surprises,” Archer came back. “But if speed is of the essence, I think a _controlled_ explosion is still our best chance.”

Trip rubbed the back of his neck. “Tell her to work fast. The water is rising in that chamber.”

“How are Malcolm and Strutt?” Archer enquired in a worried voice.

Trip let out a huff. “Strutt hasn’t regained consciousness. Malcolm… I’m not certain. You know him, he’s not easy to figure out. He said he’s _more or less okay_ , and that has me worried. He seems confused.”

“We’ll get them out, one way or another,” Archer came back in a resolute voice. “I promise.”

\------

He was beginning to feel cold. It was seeping into his very bones. He had returned to Strutt and tried to lift him in a fireman grip, but things had spun a bit too fast around him, so he was now kneeling in the cold water with an arm around the man’s chest to hold his chin above the water level. He was shivering. There were voices around him. He tried to shut them out, without success.

_Sir, it’s arctic water, we can’t resist long, even in the escape pods..._

_We sent out a distress call. Someone is bound to pick it up. Go! Get to a pod!_

He clenched his jaw against a bout of panic and tried to control his ragged breathing. A stern face with eyes that seemed quite familiar gave him a piercing look.

_You’re an officer, Lieutenant! Behave like one!_

“D’you still have your phase pistol?”

“Wh—what?” he blurted out. He was no longer certain of anything. Like who was who. Who was saying what. His head hurt.

“Your phase pistol. Give it to me.”

Trip. The man had gone off to talk to the Captain. But the Captain was dead…

“Your phase pistol, Malcolm!”

“Phase pistol?” he blinked. His hand went of its own volition to something hanging from his right side. He looked at it, it was a weapon, that much was clear. Unstably, he waded in the water, which had now reached his hips, towards the wall of debris, dragging Strutt with him. “Is th—this what you me—mean, Sir?” he asked, teeth chattering, as he handed Trip the weapon through the gap.

Trip pointed his flashlight abruptly on him, making him avert his gaze. The beam was lowered.

“Look at me, Malcolm,” the man ordered. “Who am I?”

He let out a quivering huff. “The Ch—chief Eng—ineer, Sir. And b—by the way, my n—name is Ro--Robert.”

He heard a muffled curse. “The water’s cold. You’re getting hypothermia. You’ve got to keep moving!” Trip said in an urgent tone.

“W—well, it’s ar—arctic wa—water!” he cried out. Didn’t the man understand the bloody situation? “The s—sub is sinking. We must ab—abandon sh—ship!”

There was another curse. “Move around, Lieutenant,” the man said in an authoritative voice. “That’s an order!”

Fear was a like a monster with a gaping mouth, ready to devour him. The idea of giving up and letting himself slip into oblivion was beginning to have its appeal, but that stern man didn’t let him be.

_Officers have a responsibility towards the men under their command! Get a grip, Lieutenant. Get your men to safety!_

Strutt was beginning to feel heavy, but he tightened his grip on him and tried to move around, as he had been ordered; the water, however, now came up to his lower ribcage and walking was difficult. He took a few steps and suddenly, the ground disappeared under his feet and he found himself floating. The weight in his gut expanded.

\------

“Capt’n, I’m getting’ worried. Malcolm is confused, he says his name is Robert, he’s talking about a submarine. Strutt hasn’t regained consciousness. The water’s damn cold, and it’s rising faster than I’d predicted. There’s _a lot_ of it, believe me. I’m afraid an explosion would cause it to invade the tunnels, and I don’t know if any of us would come out alive, then.”

Archer pinched the bridge of his nose and scrunched his eyes shut. A few months back, when Reed had been pinned to the hull by that Romulan mine, the man had confessed his aqua-phobia and had talked to him of his great-uncle, who had mastered that fear and gone down with his submarine to save his crew. He dared not imagine how Malcolm must feel, trapped in the situation Trip had described.

“Keep him talking, Trip,” Archer said. He didn’t want to give away Malcolm’s secret, so, after a pause he just added, “Don’t let him feel alone.”

“I’ve been trying to make a large-enough gap through the debris, at the top, using Malcolm’s phase pistol,” Trip said, following his own thread of thought. “It’s slow going but at least it’s doing somethin’.”

“I’ve had the second shuttlepod on standby, ready to go; I’m sending down Müller with a couple of men,” Archer said.

Trip shook his head. “There’s no room for so many people down here, Sir. Just send Müller with a couple of rifles. It’s gonna go faster than with a phase pistol,” he replied. “And Doctor Phlox.”

“Will do.”

“Capt’n, remind me never to overhaul the transporter before we’re going on an away mission,” Trip said in frustration. “It’s gonna take at least 45 minutes before they’re here.”

“You didn’t know we’d come across a planet rich in dilithium ore, Trip. Don’t beat yourself up,” Archer said, but he was sure the words were cold comfort to his Chief Engineer.

\------

Trip cut off the phaser beam and climbed through ever larger rivulets of cold water onto the mound of rubble, to dislodge a rock he had just pummelled with the pistol. It crumbled under his fingers.

“Malcolm!” he called. Archer was right, he should make the man talk, keep him awake.

“It’s R—obert, Com—mander. G—get to an esc—cape pod or you’ll go do—down with the ship!”

Trip felt a knot in the pit of his stomach. “Hold on, Lieutenant,” he urged, “Help is on the way.”

“You’re the Ch—chief En—gineer!” Malcolm cried out, sounding close to despair. “You ca—cannot go down with the sh—ship!”

What the hell Malcolm was on about, Trip did not know, but there was a note in his voice that clashed with what he knew of the man. He had never seen the Armoury Officer lose his cool, not even under the worst pressure. He flashed his light through the opening he had made. The water was no more than half a meter below, if they didn’t get to their crewmates fast it would start flowing out of the aperture. He moved the flashlight around and saw them, not too far away. Malcolm seemed exhausted. He was holding on to Strutt – who looked worryingly still, his head thrown back – but was clearly having a hard time keeping them both afloat. One of the portable lights was still working, casting an eerie light against the ceiling of the cave, which was getting threateningly close to the water surface now.

“I’m not going down with the ship, Lieutenant,” Trip barked. “And neither will you. D’you hear me? I won’t let you!”

“Commander,” another voice called.

“Over here!”

Trip felt relief wash over him. He turned just as Ensign Müller and Doctor Phlox, carrying lights, came into sight. Trip jumped down from the debris. “Glad to see you. We don’t have much time.”

Malcolm’s SIC took in the situation at a glance and threw Trip a phase rifle.

“Both Lieutenant Reed’s and Ensign Strutt’s biosigns are quite weak,” Phlox informed them in an uncharacteristically dark voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your nice comments!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

“Captain, the water that has accumulated in the chamber where our men are trapped is exercising great pressure on the debris. It would be advisable for our people to get out of the caves as soon as possible.”

Archer straightened in his seat in concern. That innocent raising of the eyebrows did not fool him anymore. He knew that T’Pol could convey the most worrisome news in the most impassive voice. At the beginning of their mission, it had irritated him greatly. Now he appreciated her calm under pressure. “How long is it going to hold?” he enquired directly.

“I have no way of telling,” T’Pol replied. “You must urge the rescue team to work fast.”

\------

Two rifles worked a lot better than one phase pistol.

“Enough,” Trip shouted, lowering his weapon. “I think I can get a man through it now.”

His communicator chirped. He unzipped his arm pocket, retrieved it and threw it to Müller. “You get it,” he said as he began to climb up the rubble, fighting against the water that was now overflowing abundantly through the opening they had made.

“Trip,” Archer’s worried voice echoed in the tunnel, “the water pressure on that debris wall is getting critical. What’s your status?”

“Müller here, Captain,” Malcolm’s SIC replied. “We managed to make a big enough hole. Commander Tucker is about to get our people through it now.”

“Get out of those caves as soon as possible,” Archer urged.

“Malcolm!” Trip called, but there was no reply. He shone his flashlight around, fighting the fear that it might be too late. He moved it across the entire chamber, cursing under his breath. No one was in sight. He was drenched and starting to feel cold.

“H—here,” a faint voice said.

Trip scrambled up the debris another bit and leaned across the opening, looking right and left.

“Get this m—man to s—safety.”

Malcolm was just beyond the opening. He was holding on to a jutting piece of rock with one arm, his other holding Strutt’s head above the water. Trip reached out and grabbed Strutt by one arm, pushing away the thought that he and Müller had nearly used their rifles just on that very part of the wall. They would have killed their crewmates had they done so.

“I’ve got him. You can let go of him now, Ma-- Robert,” he said. But Malcolm was a statue of ice. Trip reached with his other hand and forcibly extracted Strutt from his grip. “Hold on, I’ll be back for you in a moment,” he told his friend.

“N—no time,” Malcolm stuttered, looking much too pale and confused, “It was a hon—honour, Com—Commander...”

Trip reached out and gave Malcolm a good shake, “Don’t ya dare give up on me now, d’you hear me, Lieutenant?”

“The sh—ship… it’s s—sinking” Malcolm stuttered, as if saying _it’s not my fault_.

There was no point trying to argue with a hallucinating man, so Trip got to work getting Strutt through the opening. “Damn, but he weighs a ton!” he complained to Müller, who had come up to lend a hand. “Get him and the Doctor out of the caves on the double,” he urged. “We’ll be right behind you.” There was now a steady waterfall coming out of the aperture, and the tunnels were beginning to look like streams.

“Aye, Sir” Müller replied, always the proper officer like his chief.

Trip watched him slide down the rubble with the injured man in his arms and turned back to the opening. “Malcolm!” he called. He directed the beam of his flashlight to the spot where Malcolm had been just moments before, but he was no longer there. Trip felt his gut clench. “Robert!” he shouted. He searched the chamber and spotted him floating a couple of metres out. He was not moving.

Wasting no time, Trip wedged his flashlight in between a couple of rocks and pushed himself through the hole, diving into the water. With a few strokes he got to the spot, just in time to grab Malcolm’s arm and pull him up, for he had started to sink. To Trip’s relief, the man gasped and sputtered, coughing up some water.

“That’s it, spit it all out, Malcolm,” he told him.

“Co—commander? Is th—that you?”

“That’s me alright,” Trip replied, “whatever Commander you’re thinkin’ of.”

Trip passed an arm across Malcolm’s chest and started towards the opening. The water level was still rising, it was now almost above their escape way and the ceiling of the cave was closing down on them. Getting himself and Malcolm through the opening proved a difficult affair, for the man was stiff and uncooperative, but Trip was very motivated. They almost rolled down the debris, with Trip managing to break their fall. The water had now transformed the tunnels into rivers.

Without further ado, Trip heaved Malcolm onto his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Stumbling in the sloshing water, he started towards the exit. He was half-way through when he heard a loud rumbling sound. The wall of debris collapsing… He quickened his pace, but it was not easy carrying a man and walking in water. He could hear the wave coming but did not turn to look at it. When it hit, he could already see the light at the end of the tunnel. He was surprised by the force of the impact. He was swept off his feet and lost hold of Malcolm.

The next he knew, he was lying on the ground outside the caves, with Müller kneeling by his side.

“Are you all right, Commander?” the Ensign was asking in a taut voice.

Trip took quick stock of himself. He could move all limbs. “Yeah, I think so,” he croaked out. “Just a bit wet.” He turned and saw that Phlox was tending to Malcolm.

There was a chirping sound. Müller reached for a communicator and handed it to Trip, who took it and flicked it open.

“Tucker,” Trip panted, wiping a wet sleeve over his brow.

“What’s your status? We detected a large cave-in,” Archer’s worried voice enquired.

“We’re okay, Sir.” Trip took in the Doctor’s quick, professional ministrations and winced. “What I mean is we’re out of the caves. Strutt and Malcolm don’t look too good.”

Phlox lowered his medical scanner and raised compelling eyes on him. “We must get them both to Sickbay as quickly as possible, Commander. Their body temperature is critically low, and they both suffered concussions.”

Tips raked a hand through his hair. “Did you hear that Capt’n? How is the transporter coming along?”

“I’m afraid it’s still offline.”

Archer’s despondent tone had carried through the comm link.

“Then we’d better be off, Sir,” Trip said. “We have a bit of a hike to get to the Shuttlepods.” He cut the communication and sighed. “Give me a hand here, Ensign.” He reached out with his right arm and Müller promptly pulled him upright.

Phlox had closed his case and was waiting. Müller went to lift up Strutt. Trip got a hold of Malcolm. And without another word, they were off.


	5. Chapter 5

Müller had piloted Shuttlepod Two back to Enterprise.

In Shuttlepod One, once in space, Trip had put the vessel on autopilot and helped Phlox strip Malcolm and Strutt of their wet uniforms, dry them as best as they could and cover them with thermo-blankets. He too was beginning to shiver, but there was not time to think of his own self, so he’d just raised the heating in the cabin.

Now he and Müller were in the decon chamber. Phlox had taken the injured men straight to Sickbay and ordered the two of them to wait, but quite some time had passed, and they had had no news or instructions.

Wrapped in a thermo-blanket, Trip watched Müller restlessly pace up and down. With two armoury men severely injured, one of whom was his Chief, Trip could sympathize, but it was starting to get to him. “I’m gonna have to redo the flooring, if you keep that up, Ensign,” he said, none too kindly. Müller turned abruptly and with a “Sorry, Sir,” sat down on the bench opposite to him.

“Nah, I’m sorry,” Trip huffed out, “it’s this waitin’. But Phlox will fix them up,” he said, though he sounded wary to his own ears. Both Malcolm and Strutt had looked in a bad way.

“They could at least tell us something,” Müller complained. “How long have we been in here? I’d say close to—”

As if on cue, the small window between Sickbay and the Decon chamber opened. Behind it, T’Pol appeared.

“What’s goin’ on?” Trip asked, jumping to his feet.

“Doctor Phlox has managed to bring Lieutenant Reed’s and Crewman Strutt’s body temperature up and has stabilized them, at least for the moment. Crewman Strutt, however, has suffered a large haemorrhage and will have to undergo surgery to relieve the pressure on his brain. Lieutenant Reed suffered a severe concussion. Both men’s condition remains critical,” T’Pol replied.

Trip’s concern went up a few notches . “Always the optimist,” he muttered under his breath, though to tell the truth he’d have to dig deep to find anything heartening about the news. He had forgotten, however, the Vulcans’ enhanced sense of hearing…

T’Pol cast him a look. “I’m simply stating facts.” she said.

“Can we get out of here?” Trip asked in frustration.

“You picked up some bacteria. You must use the gel in container C,” T’Pol instructed. “When you have finished, ring and I will let you know if you are free to go.”

Discarding the thermo-blanket, Trip silently nodded.

With a last undecipherable look, T’Pol closed the window.

Müller went to the shelf. “Here, Commander. Agent C,” he said glumly, handing him a reddish gel.

Trip took it without a word and started spreading the decontaminating substance over his arms.

\------

Archer watched Strutt’s inanimate form slide out of the imaging chamber. Phlox held his chin and studied the diagram of the man’s cranial scan. Jon shifted his gaze to the Crewman. He seemed to be breathing normally, but Phlox was hovering about, far too serious and focused to make him feel reassured.

“Excuse me, Captain,” Phlox said in a grave voice, “I need some room.”

Archer quickly moved out of the way, while a couple of medics, with measured, professional moves, delicately placed Strutt on a biobed and Reed on the imaging chamber bed, which silently slid in. Something was gnawing at Jon. It was the idea that things should always turn out sour, aliens should invariably shoot at them, and that no matter what planet they chose to set foot on, they ran into trouble.

He heard someone approach and turned to see T’Pol behind him.

“Captain,” she began.

“Don’t say it,” Archer warned. “I could do without the lecture right now.”

T’Pol’s eyebrows rose. “I was only going to say that Commander Tucker and Ensign Müller are decontaminating now and should be out in about half an hour.”

Archer heaved a breath and closed his eyes. “Sorry,” he apologised. Perhaps what really gnawed at him was the fact that T’Pol had cautioned him and he had ignored her suggestion. “It’s good to know that at least those two are okay,” he added. He knew that his eyes were saying a whole lot more, including things which he would rather keep to himself, so he lowered them. He needed to be alone with his thoughts.

“I’ll be out of your hair, Doctor,” Jon said to Phlox. “Keep me apprised.”

“Of course, Captain,” Phlox replied, hardly sparing him a glance.

Avoiding T’Pol’s gaze, Jon left to find refuge in his ready room.

\------

He cracked his eyes open, fully aware that he would not like what he’d find. He didn’t expect it, however, to be this bright environment. A soft alarm went off, and a strange face with an even stranger smile appeared in his line of vision. It stirred something in him, but he couldn’t tell what.

“Welcome back, Lieutenant,” the man said. “Any pain?”

“Where am I?” he asked in a voice hoarse from disuse.

“You’re in Sickbay, on the Enterprise.”

“Enterprise?” He closed his eyes. “I thought I was on the Clement…” The name Enterprise, actually, had a vaguely familiar ring to it, but the devil if he could tell what it was. “I don’t know what you mean,” he breathed out. Trying to focus would cost him too much of an effort.

“It is perfectly all right,” the man came back in an oddly chirpy tone. “You suffered a severe concussion. You need time and rest. You’ll remember.”

The image of a young blond man suddenly flashed before his mind’s eye. “The man I kept afloat?” he enquired weakly, cracking his eyes open again.

“Rest, Lieutenant,” the Doctor just told him, all lightness gone from his voice.

Malcolm felt something being pressed to his neck, there was a soft hissing sound, and his world turned black again.

\------

A week after the accident in the caves, Archer received the call he had long been expecting. Phlox had guarded the Sickbay like a Rottweiler. It had been frustrating.

“Phlox here, Captain. I’m glad to say that Lieutenant Reed is well enough to speak to you, if you wish to visit.”

“I’ll be there right away,” Jon replied, already getting up from his bridge chair. He briefly met Trip’s eyes, where he read his same relief, and headed for the turbo lift.

When he entered Sickbay, the Doctor turned from the cage of one of his strange creatures and welcomed him with one of his uplifting smiles.

“Does he remember?” Jon asked Phlox directly.

“More or less everything,” the Doctor replied. His very blue eyes got even brighter as he added, “At least he knows that his name is not Robert.”

“What about Strutt?” Archer enquired, glancing at the drawn curtains hiding the young man’s biobed.

“I’m still keeping him sedated, Captain,” Phlox replied gravely. “The operation was complex and delicate. But I’m in contact with the Interspecies Medical Exchange and have not lost hope of a full recovery.”

Archer heaved a deep sigh. “Keep me apprised of the situation constantly,” he said. “His parents have a right to know how things are progressing.”

“Of course, Captain.” Phlox swept a hand towards another drawn curtain. “There is your Armoury Officer. Don’t stay too long.”

Archer peeped behind the curtain. He hadn’t expected to see Malcolm sitting up in bed. He let himself inside the enclosure, and to his relief as soon as Reed spotted him, he made an effort to sit even straighter. It meant he was a lot better.

“At ease, Lieutenant,” Archer said with a smile. “We’re not on the Bridge.”

“Captain,” Reed said, looking his usual awkward self. “Thank you for visiting.”

“I’ve been looking forward to it,” Jon said, putting a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder, “but the Doctor was inflexible: no visits.”

There was a pause, then Malcolm shot Jon a sideways glance. “It… wasn’t a nightmare, then,” he said in a dark voice.

“I’m afraid not,” Jon replied, matching his tone, “but the important thing is that you’ll be all right.” He narrowed his eyes. “I want my Armoury Officer back on the Bridge as soon as possible.”

Malcolm gave him a faint smile.

Jon didn’t know if he should ask, but perhaps it would be good for the man to get things out of his system. “Trip told me… you were talking of a submarine, and that you thought your name was Robert,” he dared. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with what you told me on the hull that time, about your great-uncle?”

Malcolm tightened his lips and fixed his gaze on his sheet. “It has everything to do with it,” he confessed in a voice in which emotion was carefully kept in check. He darted Jon a self-conscious glance. “For some reason, the night before the accident I had dreamt of the Clement. The concussion and the freezing water that flooded the cave must have caused the memory to play havoc with my mind.” Finally meeting Jon’s eyes, he added, “I was going in and out of focus, and in the end, I apparently got to believe that Commander Tucker was my great-uncle and I was his Lieutenant, Robert Peterson.”

Jon gave his Armoury Officer’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’m sorry you had to live your worst nightmare,” he said. He knew Malcolm would not like his next words, but he felt he had to say them. “I’m afraid I made a bad command decision, which endangered your lives.” Malcolm opened his mouth sharply, but he didn’t give him a chance to speak. “I should have waited until Subcommander T’Pol had analysed all her data, before sending down an away party.”

“You did what you thought was necessary to ensure that we could continue on our mission, Sir,” Malcolm said in a resolute tone. “And I don’t remember exactly pulling back myself.” He shook his head. “Things sometimes go awry. When we signed for this mission, we knew the risks, Sir.”

Malcolm’s voice was getting weaker. “You need to rest, Lieutenant,” Archer said. He peeked outside the enclosure and added, humour lighting up his green gaze, “And if I don’t leave soon Phlox might unleash his bat on me.” He made to turn but Reed, uncharacteristically, put a hand on his arm and stopped him.

“How is Crewman Strutt, Sir?” he enquired. “The Doctor won’t tell me. He remains vague.”

Jon took a moment to reply. He didn’t want to go against Phlox’s decisions but at the same time he knew Malcolm felt responsible for his subordinate. So much for his little lecture of things sometimes go awry but when we signed on, we knew the risks… He and his Armoury Officer were cut out of much the same cloth.

“Captain, please,” Reed almost begged. “I have a right to know. Is he…”

“He’s not dead,” Archer hurried to reassure him, “But he had to undergo a delicate brain operation, and Phlox still has him sedated.”

There was a silence.

“You know, if it weren’t for you, he’d be dead,” Archer said, managing to engage the shifting blue-grey eyes. “Considering what you told me that time on the hull, Lieutenant, you were very brave.”

Malcolm huffed out an ironic breath. “Quite the opposite, Sir. If it weren’t for him, for the responsibility I felt towards a subordinate, I’d have given in to my fear and I’d have probably drowned.” Reed closed his eyes, looking quite exhausted.

“Nonsense,” Jon said, but his words were lost on Malcolm, who was slipping in the land of dreams.

Hopefully, better dreams than going down in a submarine in the Arctic sea.


	6. Chapter 6

_Two months later_

“Strutt, I take it you have realigned the targeting sensors?”

The young man, who was just digging into what looked like his first morsel of chicken marsala, straightened his shoulders, and gave his SIC a groan accompanied by a couple of deep nods.

“Good,” Malcolm said.

Strutt had come out of his coma, but the brain haemorrhage he had suffered had left some aftereffects. Talking still proved difficult, though the young man at least had recovered all his other functions. Phlox was helping him out with speech therapy, and he had been granted a return to light duty.

“Aren’t ya a bit rough with the guy?” Trip asked, as they headed with their laden trays to a free table.

“On the contrary,” Malcolm replied testily, as he put his tray down and slid into a chair, “I’m trying to make him feel normal. If I treated him with kid’s gloves it would certainly be worse.”

“Huh,” Trip muttered unconvincingly, “If you say so…”

Malcolm noisily put down the fork he had just picked up and pinned him with a steely gaze. “What do you mean _if I say so_?”

Since the accident in the caves, Malcolm had not been himself. He had buried himself in work and been more irritable, avoiding any extra-professional contact, and Trip knew that although he had recovered from his concussion, he was not well. Today it was the first time he had managed to cajole the man into joining him for a meal, and maybe it was time he made him face reality.

“I guess what I mean is,” Trip said, holding the cutting gaze, “that any way you look at it, he isn’t normal. Yet,” he added at the last moment, for he trusted that with time and treatment Strutt would also recover fully.

Trip braced for some angry verbal reaction, but Malcolm instead fell against the back of his seat, looking spent. He watched him rake a hand through his hair, face averted.

“Why did the Captain order me to take a man with me?” he spat out in a despondent voice. “I could’ve done the job myself, and with my eyes closed, for heaven’s sake!”

“Look at me, Malcolm,” Trip said. And when, reticently, Malcolm did so, he continued, articulating every word, “You saved that man’s life, down there. So, stop feelin’ responsible for something that was out of your control.”

“I’m afraid that’s not entirely correct, Commander,” Malcolm countered glumly. “I was going to use two charges. Strutt suggested three, and I let him.” In a spikier accent than usual he added, “That’s what you get when you want to be accommodating with your subordinates.”

Trip pinned him with determined eyes. He knew the two of them had different ways to run their departments and he respected Malcolm’s way, but this was too much. “You’ve got to be kiddin’,” he said, leaning forward the better to drive the point home. “Two charges, three charges… what difference could it have made? With that amount of water pressing behind the rock face, once a breach was made, we would’ve been in trouble regardless of how many charges you’d placed.”

“Ah, I don’t know…”

It was disturbing to see Malcolm, usually so self-assured, look uncertain. The man picked up his fork again and moved the food around his plate, absorbed in thought.

Trip heaved an inner sigh. He felt for his friend. “I think what you did was amazing,” he said in earnest, “and I don’t tell you this to make you feel better.” He shook his head. “That water was freezing, and despite bein’ concussed and exhausted you kept Strutt afloat for as long as it was necessary. You saved his life. You oughta concentrate on that thought.”

Malcolm looked at him, as if something had just struck him.

“Actually… I haven’t even thanked you for what you did, Commander,” he said uneasily. “It’s you who saved both our lives.”

Trip broke into a smile. “Really? I thought I’d saved a certain Lieutenant Robert.” He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Care to tell me about him?”

He could tell Malcolm wasn’t too keen by the hooded glance he shot him. Trip immediately regretted his big mouth, but Malcolm licked his lips in that way of his, when he was about to say something in confidence, and revealed, “Robert Peterson was the Lieutenant of my great-uncle, who was Chief Engineer on the HMS Clement, a Royal Navy submarine.”

“So…” Trip frowned, adding two plus two. “You thought I was your great-uncle, and you his Lieutenant?”

Malcolm abandoned his fork again and shifted on his seat. “The Clement hit a mine in the Arctic sea and began to sink. My great-uncle locked himself in the engine room and kept the engine going to allow the crew to get to the escape pods. He went down with the ship.”

“One hell of a story,” Trip breathed out. He studied his friend. “I can see why you relived that accident, in your confused state of mind,” he said. “All the elements were there: an explosion, flooding, freezing water, a chief engineer behind an inaccessible partition…”

“Bloody coincidences,” Malcolm agreed with an ironic lift of the eyebrows, “but there it was… I thought we were in the sinking HMS Clement.”

Trip mulled over the words. “Well, now I know where your guts come from, Lieutenant,” he said, with a grin that took nothing away from the respect he felt for what Malcolm had done, “it’s a family trait.”

To Trip’s surprise, Malcolm tightened his jaw, and his eyes got almost pained. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Commander,” he spat out in a hoarse voice, “I was terrified down there.”

It wasn’t every day that Malcolm showed you his weak side. It had happened in Shuttlepod One, that time, and that’s when their friendship had been forged. Trip was glad that the man now considered him a close-enough friend to be trusted with such an uncomfortable revelation.

“Hell, anyone would’ve been,” Trip said. Engaging the man’s eyes, he went on, “Come on, Malcolm,” he added, “you don’t measure a man’s courage by his fear, but by the way he faces it.” He nodded. “I think you passed the test, Lieutenant. Come hell or high water, I know you will handle it.”

Malcolm pressed his lips together, and Trip drove a playful punch to his friend’s arm. “How about diggin’ into our food, it’s getting’ cold and I’m starved.”

They ate in silence for a while.

“Worst away mission in history,” Malcolm blurted out at some point. “We risked the lives of – what – five people, counting the rescue party, and didn’t even get one dilithium crystal.”

“Oh yeah? And what d’you call the ore we found in the pockets of your uniform?” Trip said tilting his head to one side.

Malcolm blinked, flabbergasted. “You don’t mean to say…”

Trip chuckled. “I don’t know what Lieutenant Peterson would’ve done, but Lieutenant Reed, true to his disciplined self, didn’t come back empty handed.” He shook his head, still chuckling. “Somehow you managed to find the time to put quite a few rocks in your pockets.”

“I don’t remember,” Malcolm huffed out. Then he groaned. “Great idea, given that I had to keep myself and another man afloat.”

“Really? And how about me, having to carry you and the ore on my shoulders all the way back to the Shuttlepod?”

“Well, you only did yourself a favour,” Malcolm countered, while a grin finally appeared on his face, “it’s you who needed that dilithium.”

Trip shook his head, glad to see his friend in a better mood.

“Was it at least up to your specs?” Malcolm wondered, putting his napkin on the table.

“Better.”

Malcolm rose and Trip leaned back and looked up at him. He was turning once again into the proper Armoury Officer, ready to go back on duty, but it seemed to him that he had chased some of his ghosts away.

“Too bad for those hidden reservoirs of spring water,” Trip wondered out loud, “that place is a veritable goldmine – and by ‘gold’ I mean dilithium.”

“Well, I hope those crystals last you a long time,” Malcolm replied, “for I have no intention to go back there.” After a moment of silence, he cast Trip and awkward glance. “Thanks, Commander,” he said deep in his chest.

Trip knew what he meant. “Anytime, Lieutenant.”

He watched Malcolm walk away. At Strutt’s table, the man stopped and grabbed his subordinate’s shoulder. He said a few words to him, and Strutt smiled.

“Is everything okay with Malcolm?” a voice suddenly asked.

Trip turned to see Archer behind him, looking at his Armoury Officer with a frown on his face.

“I’m a bit worried,” Jon said, “he’s been quite withdrawn since that accident.”

Trip got up and stood by his CO. “All’s peachy, Capt’n, all’s peachy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a pleasure to read your comments. I'm glad you enjoyed this story.  
> I'll be gradually posting on this site all of my other Trip&Malcolm friendship stories.


End file.
